The journey to Kaller's star system went by quickly. The journey from the cruiser to the planet's surface, on the other hand, seemed to stretch out forever. The silence on the lambda shuttle was as unwelcome as the company, with Cal sitting in the middle of a row of purge troopers, two to each side. Trilla sat opposite of him, her expression unknowable beneath her near permanent helmet.

The silence also left Cal with plenty of time to grapple with what he'd read in Cere's file.

Two weeks, Cal's mind fixated on the little details. Two weeks to give up Trilla's location to the Empire.

Cal had to wonder what Trilla did in that time. What it meant to be desperate and hiding in a cave, totting a youngling around but otherwise alone.

Alone and afraid, he admitted before his thoughts drifted back to Cere.

Electrodes, drills, and drugs. Cal was sure that it was nothing worse than he'd seen. He was also sure that he could have never escaped the same way. Rated for two tons, those restraints should have been enough to hold a rancor in place. What wasn't the same between them were the stakes; the fact that Cere had something to lose, had someone relying on her.

Cal shifted in his seat, trying not to touch the purgetroopers as he did

You let Trilla down, Cal grappled with the truth, she needed you. I needed you.

Cal tried to escape that last thought, instead dwelling on Trilla's memories. Not only was the sight of Cere's escape harrowing, but the heavy sense of dread – of guilt – from that night still lingered in the Fortress' torture room.

It must still haunt Cere, Cal thought back to their talks on the Mantis, looking up at Trilla as he did, it still haunts her.

Days trapped in the Fortress picked at Cal.

I won't let it get to me, he tried to speak against a simmering resentment, but as the ship shook on its approach through the atmosphere he was left to grapple with an ugly truth.

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be sure of himself, to have a clear cause to his misery. Yes, the Empire was an awful thing, an unyielding prison, all-encompassing in its power and all consuming.

But it was faceless.

Impersonal.

Cal needed a villain. A person to blame for his pain, and Cere knew what she did.

She knew, the guilt that painted the Fortress walls was proof enough.

Grappling with and slowly succumbing to a fresh sense of betrayal, Cal was only pulled from his thoughts when the lambda shuttle door drooped open to flood the passenger compartment with bright light.

Wordless and moving like shadows, Trilla and her bench-full of purgetroopers filed out of the ship.

Less concerned with an orderly arrival on the planet, Cal wasn't so patient with the troopers around him, opting to hurry from the shuttle rather than wait for them to follow him.

Free of the purgetroopers, Cal made a few large steps away from the shuttle before stretching and drawing in a deep breath of cool air.

The landing platform around him was unremarkable, a dark duracrete expanse with muddled piles of half-melted snow around its edges. The city skyline that stretched out around Cal was much the same, only notable for the fact that most of the tall buildings ended in domed rooves.

What caught Cal's eye were the wide and tall mountain ranges, some of their peaks nearly blotting out the suns for how high they reached into the sky, while others came to an end somewhere below the mile high city. One sun on each side of the sky, they cast harsh shadows that melted against black and brown stone, the mountain peaks glimmering with white frost. At first thinking that movement he saw along the stones were a trick of the light, Cal quickly realized that wide and deep rivers tumbled down from the hills, sending out plumes of frost when the waters fell into a cold and shadowed spot.

Upon seeing the swirling water and ice, Cal realized that the constant droning he'd assumed to be ship engines was actually the distant rumble of rivers and avalanches.

Trying to take in every detail of the icy but vibrant planet, Cal paid little mind to the landing pad.

So he was taken by surprise when an unfamiliar voice came from behind him, "Welcome to Plateau City, Sir!"

Him and BD both jumping slightly, Cal turned to find a protocol droid.

Unfazed, it continued, "Please proceed to customs. The current wait time is fifteen minutes."

"Uh…" bought back to the platform, Cal cast a quick glance around, sight settling on the last of the purge troopers leaving the shuttle he mumbled, "I'm with them."

"Oh!" The droid followed Cal's line of sight before looking back to the young man, "My apologies, sir. Kaller welcomes the Empire, please enjoy your stay."

Biting his tongue as the protocol droid shuffled away, Cal sheepishly walked back to the shuttle, stopping at the edge of the group of purgetroopers. Feeling Trilla's heavy gaze as he did, Cal didn't look up.

Suspicious of Cal's plans, Trilla kept a careful control over herself as she turned towards the customs house. Falling into step, the purgetroopers march along behind her, leaving Cal to trail along from the back.

The group didn't slow for anyone, the few others on the landing platform going out of their way to give them a wide berth. Even upon entering the customs house at the far edge of the platform, Trilla didn't slow. There was no awkward bumbling between her and the clerk, no confusing exchange, or over rigid checking for appointments. They simply walked in, giving the workers nothing more than a passing glance as they moved behind the main desk and to a door that led deeper into the building.

Taking a longer look than the others at the clerk and single customer in the room, Cal couldn't help but feel a tension spike and then slowly drift away as Trilla and the purgetroopers began to funnel into the halls. He also couldn't help but notice that the clerk quickly turn away from the customer to make a frantic call from their desk.

He didn't get the chance to hear what they had to say before the door to the hall slid shut.

Winding through a maze-like building that was much larger than the Bracca customs house, Cal considered slipping away as they weaved through dimly lit halls. But, before he decided what to do, the group came to a sudden stop at a large meeting room.

Shuffling into the place and the spreading out, Cal found that there was plenty of room to sit around a large table. Holding onto some defiance, he opted to lean against the wall instead. In the room sat a single man in a grey officer's tunic.

Of a difficult to discern age, the man seemed neither young nor old, having no deeply worn lines on his face nor the slightly rounded features that came from youth. His hair a medium blond, it seemed neither thick nor thin, neither particularly shiny nor dull. Neither tall nor short, skinny nor fat, he was somehow the most generic person Cal had ever seen, and was sure that he would forget this man's face the moment it was out of his sight.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." The man stood in greeting, talking to Trilla with a slight hint of a coreworld accent as he distantly noticed Cal in the back of the room, acknowledging him with a simple "Sir." Before continuing, "My name is Captain Malik Stairns. I'll be representing Major Dianna Plinn, she sends her apologies but she's preoccupied with a preplanned meeting with Admiral Takel."

Sensing an appropriate amount of apprehension on the captain, Trilla was only slightly contemptuous as she said, "Very well. Presumably you've read the materials we sent ahead."

The what?

"Yes, ma'am," the Captain Stairns replied while Cal wondered, "The Imperial presence on Kaller is standing by to support the Inquisition's mission."

Trilla noted the perfectly proper and carefully rehearsed way that the captain spoke, but she did have one question, "As it should. Though that does beg the question of why our cuiser was denied permission to enter orbit."

Captain Stairns remained calm, "Certain conditions this time of year make off world travel difficult, and prevents large ships from entering the planet's orbit entirely."

"Conditions?" She asked.

"Conflicting gravity wells from the systems dual stars," Captain Stairns clarified, "Luckily the Kalleran summer, the period where the planet orbits between its stars, is short . Your cruiser should be able to approach in five standard days."

Even with that explanation, the over-long ride in left Cal with a question, "What about smaller ships, difficult for them how?"

Stairns looked up, wondering why it had taken the other inquisitor so long to bother speaking, "Anything over one hundred meters would likely be torn apart, even our lambda shuttles at twenty meters only have two viable departure paths."

Cal considered the size of the lambda shuttle, It's not very wide, but the Mantis is definitely longer than a lambda.

Trilla had a similar thought as Cal, but she couldn't be too careful, looking to the captain she told him, "Coordinate with the cruiser, monitor all viable routes off the planet. Our targets are likely in an S-161 XL luxury yacht, but impound anything attempting to leave."

Somewhat rigid at the order, the captain answered with a stern, "Yes, ma'am. Shall I authorize a sector-by-sector scan of the planet for the yacht's signature?"

"It's likely being scrambled," Trilla spoke with an annoyed edge, "deploy whatever probedroids you have on hand, we'll need visual confirmation of the ship or its crew."

"Yes, ma'am. We received their files in your read ahead materials."

Nodding along at the unusual amount of competence for such a remote planet, Trilla added, "It's likely that our targets have contacted a rebel cell. What information do we have on them?"

Stairns cast an untrusting eye over the purgetroopers, "It's a sensitive matter."

Trilla caught the meaning, dismissing the purgetroopers with a wave. Sure that a sharp comment for him to leave as well was coming, Cal stubbornly remained rooted in place.

When the final trooper had shuffle out of the room, Cal was left with the gutting realization that he was meant to be there, implicitly placed in a position of trust.

Still, a long beat of silence passed.

Trilla broke it, "You were saying, captain?"

"We have detected some questionable activities in the south," He evenly looked between the two inquisitors before settling his gaze on the Second Sister, "Rest assured, we have an informant embedded in Kaller's nascent rebel cell. Should they grow to a threat, we have plans in place to neutralize them."

Cal felt his features twitch in surprise.

Trilla remained calm, "Are the rebels suspicious?"

"Our source has been extensively vetted, ma'am."

Cal couldn't help but notice that Stairns' answer wasn't really an answer.

So did Trilla, "Are they suspicious?"

Stairns maintained his composure, "Of each other, yes. But we have no indication that our source is under particular scrutiny."

Trilla and Cal both considered the answer, though in different ways.

Cal found himself conflicted, An Imperial spy… I guess I shouldn't be so shocked.

Some of the rebels mean well, moments on Kashyyylk flashed before Cal's mind's eye, reminding him of the likes of Mari, Choyyssyk, and Cheiftan Tarfful – loyal comrades that would gladly die fighting for eachother. But he was also reminded of Sol Guerra and his partisans, powerful fighters and clever to boot, but cowards who left their friends behind, but some of them… not even the empire abandons people like that.

Hell, I couldn't get rid of them even if I wanted to.

Cal looked down at himself, wearing an Imperial uniform, on an Imperial mission. Brought where he was by cruel circumstance and kept there by confused desires, he wondered about this spy.

Why would they do this?

Whereas Cal was ponderous, Trilla was an oprotunity, "Inform Major Plinn that you'll be unavailable for the rest of the day. I'd like to speak with your source."

Stairns hid a twitch, "Yes, ma'am."

.***.***.***.***.

Cere and Merrin both shed their coats on the long walk to Miss Korin's hut.

Winding through the forest, they'd waded through knee deep snow drifts, half melted under a sudden bloom of heat that came from a too-close sun. At first unbearable, the cold against their legs turned into a welcome distraction from the blistering light, and then into an annoying sludge that only slowed them on their uphill journey.

Cresting yet another hill, Cere and Merrin found that they were thirty feet away from a hut. A simple stone thing with a domed top, it had a covered patio. On the patio was a rocking chair, occupied by an elderly kalleran woman, seemingly enjoying the short burst of warmth and holding something flat across her lap.

"Hello!" Cere called, taking care to sound non-threatening.

"That's far enough!" the lady sitting on the porch shouted, lifting the object in her lap, now clearly a blaster riffle.

"We mean you no harm, ma'am!" Cere replied, coming to a stop and surprised and offput by the violent suspicion, "We're looking for someone."

"Check Plateau City! There's plenty of lonely men looking for company in there."

Merrin raised a brow, muttering to Cere, "Didn't Raymond say she was a nice old lady?"

"I'm not so sure we can trust Raymond," Cere answered under her breath before shouting back, "Are you Miss Korin?"

"You can call me that. And you can get the hell off my property too!"

Withdrawing from the shouting, Merrin took a long look at the stone house instead.

A short thing, Merrin was sure that the living area inside must be dug into the ground. A chimney rose up from the hut's left side, it's top curved outward to keep snow from falling in. Made from stacked stones rather than the carved out cliffsides that her people made into their cities, the dark and short structure felt warm; Homely despite Miss Korin's attitude.

And it felt lived in, by more than a single old woman.

Sensing the hint of another person, Merrin took a small step forward.

Only to stop at the rustling of a blaster, "I said back off!"

Looking up, Merrin found the old kalleran holing the blaster level at her, ready to shoot at a second's notice.

"Whoa there," Cere spoke up, placing a hand on Merrin shoulder but speaking to the old women, "everything's ok. Merrin?"

She answered quietly, "There is someone else here."

Looking at Merrin and then at Miss Korin, Cere considered her options.

If that presence is the Jedi… They must be listening to everything we're saying.

Taking a calculated risk, Cere yelled back, "Sorry for startling you, Miss Korin. We're leaving now, but if you do see who we're looking for, tell him that some old friends from the temple are here. He doesn't have to come with us, but if he wants to talk, then Raymond in town can contact us."

"I already told you, I don't get folk out here!" Miss Korin shouted.

"Understood ma'am, have a nice day." Cere politely ducked away, sure as she could be that she had made the right call. Turning away, she quetly added, "Come on, Merrin. If the Jedi wasn't listening directly, it'll probably take some time for her to calm down and talk to them."

The nightsister felt a simmering suspicion on their backs as they walked away, "It might take very long."